


Leather Gloves

by Astereae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Baseball, Boxing, Fantasy AU, High School AU, Just wait yall know me there will be more ocs, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Werewolves, i don't know why the fuck I'm writing this i need to finish rewriting shit, i have deadlines and im on ao3 what a world., idk what im doing now so here, ish, mostly one sided it's more of an sudden realization on the other side, perhaps, this will be A Thing, this will be an experience, will it be as the ones before?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astereae/pseuds/Astereae
Summary: Keith is transferred to Altea Prepatory Academy after beating someone so hard they were hospitalized, nearly dead. He's lucky too, because Shiro's fiancé, Adam, is a counselor there, otherwise he'd be in juvie.The school is run on sports- baseball almost especially. It's terribly cliquey, like a teenage move. And at the top of the social order is a group called the Pack- Two Juniors, a Sophmore, and a graduate who's father was the head master. They're different- scary, but Keith can't place why. And he's the only one who sees it. His curiousity accidentally lands him a probationary place in their group, but nothing is solved. But at that point, Keith is more scared about when it will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes i am still working on gossamer shut up i love that fic
> 
> Why did i do this? Because I wanted highschool pining. Why werewolves? Because I'm an edgy teenager. Thank you.

So what if Keith was the new kid. So what if this preppy ass school decided it wanted to be everything you saw on high school soaps, with cliques and rules and one sports team that enforced said rules. Keith was a rule breaker, so when everything said ‘hey do this’ he didn’t. So so what.

“Shiro, I’ll be fine, really.” He said, rubbing his arms and looking at the old brick building, “it’s fine.”

“You’re lucky Adam’s making special arrangements for you. You know we don’t have the money to send you anywhere but a public school.”

“Or that school the judge wants to send me to.” He fidgeted with the cuff of the uniform shirt uneasily.

“Just keep your head down and we won’t need to worry about it, okay?”

Keith sighed. “Okay.”

“Now, Adam signed you up with the boxing team, who have practice today. A student representative will show you to all your classes, because you share the same schedule except for sports, but he’ll show you where you need to go.”

“I know.”

“Adam says the school has an issue with cliques and bullying, but I don’t want you doing anything dumb, so mostly stay out of the way, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know everyone who goes here is rich. You know they’ll be pricks.”

“Find my niche and settle, I get it.” Keith said. He couldn’t believe Shiro-or maybe Adam, probably Adam- had signed him up for a team. A sports team. The kind of people he automatically knew he wouldn’t get along with. Incredible. They probably thought it would be easier for him to have an in set social structure because he was transferring in halfway through the term. They’d be wrong.

Keith slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out of the car. “I’ll see you tonight. Adam’s driving me home, right?”

“Right. Have a good day at school!”

“Thanks,” Keith called, walking up the gravel driveway, then muttered, “I won’t.”

Altea Preparatory Academy was the richest school in Pennsylvania. Surrounded by woods, a campus two square miles, four buildings, and grounds that went on into the national forest. The main old building was made with deep red brick and white concrete, covered with climbing ivy. A few students dressed in the navy blue uniform walked around the lawn, picking up trash. Keith readjusted his bag, keeping his head down as he passed them.

A young lady greeted him at the entrance, giving him another copy of his schedule and pointing him to a boy in a letterman jacket. “His name’s Lance.” She said. “He’ll be showing you around. I’m Allura, if you have any questions about your schedule, concerns about classes, or need to be excused for any reason, I’m your middleman.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I only just graduated last year, so don’t be intimidated by me.” Keith didn’t say anything, but gave her an awkward smile and wave, and walked over to the boy.

“Keith, right?” He asked, and Keith was surprised to note his blue eyes, which seemed implausible with his tan skin and latine features. Then again, Allura had bright white hair, vitiligo, and hazel eyes, and she was black. Maybe the blue was just contacts. Maybe extreme was the look.

“Yeah.” He responded curtly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lance.” He stuck out a bony hand, and Keith shook it.

“Infield or outfield?” He asked, then regretted it.

Lance laughed. “I’m our star pitcher, actually.”

“Oh.” Keith said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Homeroom-” he said it homer-oom-“ started a quarter of an hour ago. We have Homer, which is why we call it homer-oom. Um, he’s pretty chill, teaches secondary algebra to the sophomores. We’re all the sports specialties kids.”

“Right.”

“Second period we have latin, then calculus, then physics, then lunch. I’ll show you the cafeterias then. After lunch is english, world hist, art of world cultures, then sports run till five.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m assuming you want a quick guide to the social structure.”

“Not especially-” Keith began, but Lance was talking already.

“Baseball rules the school. The captain, Reddy, picks on new kids. He’s our best hitter, so the school won’t do shit about it. The baseball guys date the drill team, almost exclusively. Our football team isn’t great, but they still rank high, socially. They date the cheerleaders. The marching band is the best in the state, so don’t mock them, but they have their own hierarchy that isn’t really applicable. Everyone on the guard is gay, so that’s that. Art kids eat in cafeteria two, sports kids eat in cafeteria one. I don’t know a lot about boxing, but you’re neither up nor down, so don’t sweat it. The first week will be rough because of Reddy, but that’s gonna be about the extent of it. There’s a group of the volleyball girls who are like- well, you’ve seen mean girls, right? They’re the mean girls. Don’t engage.”

“Sounds... complicated.”

“You get the hang of it.” He slapped Keith squarely between the shoulderblades.

“You follow all these social rules?”

Lance grinned and chuckled. “Well... me, not really.”

“You’re a captain of the baseball team though, right?” Keith said, looking at the letter A on the front of his jacket.

“Well, our school is really cliquey, right?”

“Obviously.”

“My group? Baseball, for all intents and purposes, rules the school. But if you want to know who everyone really respects? It’s me.”

He smiled and opened a door. “But that won’t come up.”

* * *

 

Keith, for whatever reason, had been expecting Homer, the teacher to look like Homer, the Simpson, but he did not. He was a thin, drawn looking man in his mid fifties, wearing a brown suit that didn’t quite fit and blocky, oversized glasses.

“Lance,” he said, smiling. “Is this the new student?”

“Yeah. Keith.”

Keith watched as the teacher’s expression soured.

“Oh. Kogane.”

“Yes.” Keith said, quietly.

“Come up and introduce yourself.” Keith walked hesitantly to the front of the classroom while Lance found his seat, between a short, peaked looking girl and a tall, heavy boy. Neither of them were in lettermans, but they were both in sports jackets. It seemed that if it was a school sports jacket, it substituted for the sweater vest.

“I’m Keith Kogane. Nice to meet you.”

“Why are you transferring in?”

“I was recently offered a boxing scholarship.” Keith said, biting his bottom lip.

“Why?” Asked Homer.

Keith glanced at him, realizing that the man definitely knew why exactly he’d been transferred. “I... I was in an important fight. I won, and got the scholarship.” A civil retelling of how he got kicked out of public school.

“There’s a spot next to the Pack.” He said, gesturing to the end of the row where Lance had sat, next to the big guy. Keith took the seat, taking out his notebook.

“So, as Reddy is going to pick on you mercilessly, the guy you go to is Adam. He’s the counselor for our group of classes, he’s the chillest dude on the planet. I’m a scholarship kid too. He helped me get through a lot of stuff.”

“I know Adam.” Keith said.

“Yeah?”

“My guardian’s boyfriend.” He muttered.

“Okay, so, lowdown on Reid. He won’t think you’re good until you get smart with him, and you have to be smart with him in Latin. Do you know any Latin? It’s really a private school sorta thing. I died my freshman year.”

“I got a five on the Ap Latin test last year.” Keith said. “I think I won’t flounder.”

Lance’s eyebrows twitched up. “Okay.”

Latin was latin, just in the fancy uniforms and the taste of privilege in the way everyone talked.

“Okay, so we have calculus with Reddy. My friend Pidge is in that class too, so it won’t be too bad. The whole pack has physics. English you and I have alone with Reddy, and I’m not about to get in that shit, so you’re on your own.”

“Thanks.” Keith said.

“Hey,” Lance tapped Keith’s arm gently with the back of his hand, “what was Homer so off about when he asked you about your transfer?”

“He’s probably local.” Keith said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he sees my town’s news, okay?”

“Touchy touchy.”

After physics, Lance showed Keith the cafeteria. “This is where you eat. Table one from the middle, far left is boxer’s.”

“Are we allowed to eat on campus?”

“The cleared grounds, yeah. You don’t if you want to fit in.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t fit in. I’ve tried.”

“Okay, well life’s gonna be a little rough for you.”

“It always has been.”

“The food’s good here, whatever you get is fine. There’s a vegetarian line in cafeteria two.” He said it with some disdain. “This line’s my suggestion. I’ll find you before fifth period. Seriously. Sit with the boxers, Keith. Not everyone has the luxury of a group.”

Keith glanced at him but said nothing. He got in the line and got the food- a healthy plate of barbeque ribs, scalloped potatoes, and a salad. It was the best looking food Keith had ever had. Then, he exited the cafeteria and walked across the grounds until he settled under an oak at the edge of the cleared grounds. He ate the food- it tasted better than it looked- and pulled out his sketchbook, drafting a sketch of the building. He glanced up to check a detail and saw Lance and his ‘pack’, along with the woman who’d greeted him before, walk into the woods. They were close enough he could recognize them, but far enough that there weren’t many details. The girl’s sharp laugh carried across the cleared field.

He walked back towards the cafeteria, getting there a minute before Lance showed up.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Guessed.” He said. That was a lie. Keith could tell by how he smiled through it. “You’re new, it’s pretty easy to see where the crowds would push you.”

“Okay,” he said.

Reddy himself wasn’t all that of a beast, in the way Keith had been expecting. He had straight, reddish brown hair worn in the same cut every other white boy. He looked strong, but not intimidating. He grabbed Keith by the back of his head. Keith batted his hand away. Lance walked to the other side of Reddy and looked away.

“Hey, new kid. What’s up?” Keith glanced to the ceiling and found nothing witty to point out, so he shrugged.

“You’re a scholarship kid, right?” Keith nodded, rolling Shiro’s words over and over in his head- keep your head down, don’t cause trouble, keep your head down, don’t cause trouble.

“You know, I heard from my dad that you’re only here because Adam’s sweet on your dad or whatever.” Keith kept his eyes away. “A boxing scholarship my ass. I bet you can’t throw a punch, whiny little gay kid, just like your dad.”

Keith tensed up and punched him square in the nose. “Shiro is my brother.” He said, scowling. “And I’m a regional boxing champion.”

“Oh, well that’s lovely,” Lance said. “Nice to see you won’t last long.” Keith gave him a cold glance.

“And it’s nice to know we won’t actually be friends.” Keith said. Lance let out a tss of breath through his teeth, as if keeping himself from saying something.

“It’s only going to get harder.” He said. “Come on, let’s get to our seats.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There’s charcoal all over your fingers.” Lance said, licking his thumb and wiping a black smudge off his white leather sleeve. The captain’s letterman jacket was a hard earned badge that he cared for greatly. Especially as a junior, being a co-captain was something incredible. And then considering the fact that the captain who’d abdicated his position had been the central figure in a doping scandal, and then Lance’s pitch had gone up by several mph- administration was scared to give him the position in fear of the same problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's pov. We be figuring some things out but nothing is explicitly stated. This is super fun to write, im enjoying alot as a break from like,,,, important professional writing n all that shit. Im starting to brew up some actual plot in my head so yknow, be ready for that.

"So,” Pidge commented, dangling upside down from a bough of the Pack Tree. “That new kid. Thoughts?”

“Keith?” Lance said, tapping the eraser of his pencil to his Latin sheet. “He’s gonna die. Either Reddy’s gonna kill him or make him kill himself. Not much to it.”

She kicked one leg over and landed on the forest floor almost silently. “Hunk?”

“It’ll be a week or so before he understands why the social structure is important. How much he angers Reddy in that time is up to him.”

Allura joined them in the clearing, pulling her braids out of her ponytail and shaking them out so the fell around her waist. “He’s strong, but I wouldn’t find any reason to help him.”

Lance glanced at her almost deceivingly shortly. Of their small band, she was the only one who’d known opulence off of the campus. She showed it in small ways, but how else does someone display their wealth? A small heart shaped locket of white gold around her neck that caught the low sunlight as she leaned over his paper and tapped a mistake he’d made. His face turned hot as he erased it in a rush.

She sighed heavily as the golden light turned red. “It’s so much worse when we don’t have a choice.”

“You have a choice,” Pidge said, almost angrily. Allura smiled.

“Not if you don’t.” She said.

Lance rushed through a couple more sentences and put away the folder, tossing his bag into the tree, where it was stuck in the higher branches.

“Do you think I’ll get it for you?” Pidge asked.

“Yes.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Keith seemed unaware the next day that he’d be receiving unbelievable torment. The baseball group chat had been filled with ways to bully him, and Lance had stopped reading it about fifteen minutes into the morning, since he hadn’t been able to last night. Keith hung up his boxing gloves on a hook inside his locker, wiping shaving cream off his uniform jacket with a scowl.

“Here.” Lance said, handing him a handkerchief. “I think here’s itching powder in it. Your hands will have a rash all day if you do that.”

“How would you know?” He didn’t take it.

“I got it my second day, too.” He sighed and nudged him aside, wiping off the cream himself.

“I don’t appreciate you acting like you’re different than them.” He said, taking the soiled kerchief from him harshly.

Lance sighed again and walked away. He was childish. How could Pidge even consider... whatever. No reason to be malicious to him, but if he didn’t join the boxers in a week or so, there’d be no reason for them to open up at all.

He watched passively as Keith got pelleted with spitballs, tripped, and taunted. He took it cooly, not in the way he’d snapped at Reddy the other day.

At lunch, he skipped the cafeteria like always, finding Pidge leaning against the back of the main building. She pushed herself off the brick wall and caught up with him.

“I’m still full.” She said, tying her windbreaker around her waist.

“Because you ate as much as Hunk did last night. I don’t know how you handled it. Especially when you were climbing to get back into your dorm room.”

“Well, do we really have to go?”

“You can just dawdle.”

Hunk joined them, stuffing papers into his bag.

“You know,” he said, zipping his backpack angrily, “if it weren’t for the fact that I have to play football to stay in this damnable school, I would be accepting awards now. I hate that this is the best high school I’ll ever get to go to and I have to waste half of my time on football.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to be a famous scientist when you go to MIT because you have Altea as your home school.” Pidge said. “We all will.”

Lance chuckled. They were the words of the kids who were still running after their dreams before they got too caught up in everything else.

“Isn’t that Keith?” Hunk said, gesturing to a figure sitting under one of the solitary trees, eating lunch and sketching in a black notebook.

“Idiot. He should be eating with his teammates.” Pidge said. “And he’s not an art kid, either. It’s like he wants to be picked on.”

“Give him time to adjust. Transfers are rough.” Hunk said. Maybe he heard them talking, because Keith looked up, pushing hair out of his face. He left a black smudge on his cheek. Lance drew in a deep breath through his nose.

There were the throwaway smells of campus- fresh cut grass and reservoir water, the detergent that their school used. Horses from the stables. It was definitely Keith over there, he smelled like charcoal and motor oil and sweat. Leather boxing gloves. He looked up at Lance, eyebrows falling over his already dark eyes. Lance turned away. “Come on,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

“We should wait for Allura.” Hunk said.

“No, we should go eat in time for our next class.” Lance said, strolling up to the gate in the fence and punching in the passcode. “It’s not like we don’t know what to do.”

 

* * *

 

Keith grabbed Lance’s arm roughly as he was walking into English.

“What?” Lance asked, pulling himself away.

“Your eyes.” Keith said. “They’re blue.”

“You’re just noticing this now? I find that they’re generally very striking.”

Keith scowled.

“There’s charcoal all over your fingers.” Lance said, licking his thumb and wiping a black smudge off his white leather sleeve. The captain’s letterman jacket was a hard earned badge that he cared for greatly. Especially as a junior, being a co-captain was something incredible. And then considering the fact that the captain who’d abdicated his position had been the central figure in a doping scandal, and then Lance’s pitch had gone up by several mph- administration was scared to give him the position in fear of the same problem.

“Yeah.” Keith said. “Sorry.”

“You always use it, don’t you? I can smell it on you. Burnt trees.”

“Great. That’s not a weird thing to say to someone.”

Lance blinked several times, then brushed past him into the classroom. What a ridiculous thing to say- comment on the smell of a person. It’s not something most people think on consciously.

After AWC, Lance walked with Keith by the boxing room- not really with him, but not far enough away to be considered following. He was wearing the boxing jacket over his uniform the same way everyone wore their jackets. At least he wasn’t entirely clueless to the social norms.

He got into his practice sweats and put on his glove. The leather smelled different from the way Keith did. Maybe it was the red dye. When Lance was just beginning, when everything was so sharp and new, he could tell the difference of leather made from tanning factories, and within those, the difference between the cows they were made from.

After practice was over, Lance put his uniform slacks on but left off the shirt. He shoved it all into his bag and walked through the halls, in the general direction of his dorm. It took him past the boxing room.

Boxing and wrestling shared a room, because they were both smaller groups. He looked through the small window, watching Keith step up to a kid he thought was named Earl. He’d never watched boxing before. It was more systematic than it was ruthless. Lots of soft, swift punches to the gut, ducking and it was slower than he thought it would be, too.

Then again, everything was slower than it ought to be to him.

The dorm rooms were much more ornate than Lance’s room back home. Altea was a school for millionaires and their ilk. Old money. People who want fancy degrees as if saying they earned it- like saying they earned their money. The dorms bedded two, but he was alone, because the kid he’d been roomed up with had decided he wanted a private suite. He’d been given it.

The beds had canopies, the bedding thick and heavy. The carpet ws plush, and there was a gas fireplace that still worked, back from when there wasn’t electrical heating. Armchairs around the fireplace. Two desks.

Lance turned on the fireplace and lay down on the rug with his feet up on the armchair. Then he called his mom.

He only spoke spanish when he was speaking to his mom. There were a decent few kids who were mixed latine at Altea, but that was mostly because their rich white dads had picked up trophy wives somewhere in latin america. They were just as white as the rest of them. Speaking spanish was an implication of other, and that was wrong. More wrong than everything else he’d done wrong his freshman year.

“Hi, Mama.” He said, examining his toes as he kicked up one leg at a time and flexed the toes. “What’s going on at home?”

“Oh, nothing much.” She said, and he could hear his niece and nephews crying in the background. “Andre is home.”

“I can hear them.”

“His wife is trying to teach me how to make this... hot dog quesadilla? It’s one of the few things Alisha will eat.”

“What even is that?”

“You make the hot dog, then melt cheese on a tortilla and wrap it around the hot dog.”

“Mama, that’s brilliant. Tell Samira she’s brilliant.”

“Lance, please tell me you’re not getting up to make that.”

“No, of course not.” He said, although he was very sure he was going to make that some time soon.

“So, how’s that new boy you told me about doing?”

“He’s not following the social rules very well.” Lance said. “Reddy is awful, but he’s determined to keep himself out of the structure.”

“Like you were?”

“Similarly. It’s harder for him though. I grew into this. He doesn’t have the luxury of time.”

“Are you being nice to him?”

“You taught me courtesy, mama.”

“I’m glad.” She said.

“And how are Hunk and Pidge?”

“Great. Pidge keeps doing this thing where she eats as much as Hunk does at once and then nothing at all? It can’t be healthy for her.”

“Well, your bodies are different-”

Telling his mom about everything was a decision he’d made at the end of his sophomore year, when the one other pack they knew about, on the other side of the woods, made up a ridiculous border dispute and they all almost died. He didn’t want to disappear someday, rotting away in the woods, unrecognizable, while his mother worried. It had been a week last time. He couldn’t worry her again.

“I know, mama.” He said. “But still.”

“Are you bringing either of them home for fall break this year?”

“The whole pack.” Lance said. “Allura and Pidge have a hotel set up.”

“Tell Allura she’s always welcome. After Alfor died... and all that family’s done for us...”

“I know, mama.” Lance said, remembering how Alfor had taken interest in him after he got into his third fight- lost his third fight, actually. How the old man had found him, suffering concussion and losing blood from his nose and mouth, enough to make him woozy. How Allura had pulled him out of his rut and into where he was today.

Alfor had taken his partial scholarship and made it full. Paid for his parents to come visit him. Trained him. Made the Pack. Alfor was like a second father to him. When he died, last year....

Well. It was hard on him, to say the least.

“Mama, dinner bell’s ringing.” He said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course, I love you.”

“Love you too.” Lance said.

Dinner was as usual- he sat at the baseball team’s table, balanced out his diet as much as he needed to. Meat heavy diets were easier to handle if he ate one solid meal a day. Mostly it was breakfast. But to keep up appearances, he ate with the team most tuesdays.

“So, Lance, they forced you to babysit the new kid, right?” Reddy asked, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, Kogane?” Lance said without any tone. “Yeah. For the first day or so, get him adjusted.”

“Don’t make a habit of hanging out with him, okay?” Reddy said, and Lance glanced from his meal to him.

“Only if you keep making him punch you.”

“‘Make’ is hyperbolic.” He said.

“Glad to see that intense private school education actually helped your vocabulary.” Lance said, nudging him lightly, to make it a joke.

“Shut up and eat your ribs.” Reddy said. “You always eat so many vegetables at dinner. You need more protein.”

Lance laughed and picked up a sauce drenched rib, chuckling softly. If only he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this supposed to be fluff? This fic??? I think so. Is it? Hahahahahaha i tried for a hot sec but that's tough.
> 
> Anyways, some exploration/ explanation of the pack! Although Pighe and hunk remain a mystery (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kogane.” Earl said.
> 
> “What?” Keith asked, stalling in front of his second class.
> 
> “You’ve been here for a couple days, right?”
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “You should start coming to sit with us, then.”
> 
> “Okay,” Keith said, knowing full well he wouldn’t.
> 
> “You throw a good punch, K. I’d hate to see you in trouble for nothing.”
> 
> Keith nodded and stepped into his class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So keith can't draw? Yeah whatever vld7 was trash so i can do whatever I want.

“His eyes were yellow, Shiro, I swear I saw it.” Keith said, pacing in their small and crowded living room. He was talking with his hands, walking over the coffee table because it was positioned in a way to prevent pacing.

“Now,” Adam said carefully, from his relaxed position on the couch, “Lance does have striking eyes- perhaps the way the sun hit them?”

“His eyes are blue. I checked. But when he was looking at me at lunch they were yellow. And then again, when I went to look at them before English, they were blue when I was focusing on them, but when he glanced down, it’s just this little flash. They practically glow.”

“How far away were you the first time?”

“I don’t remember? Twenty, thirty feet?”

“Could you see his eye color from that far away?”

“I could just tell. Like how you can tell the color of a lion’s eyes even if you see them from far away in the zoo. And then he commented on how I smelled like charcoal? People don’t do that. Do people do that?” He turned to Adam.

“Lance has always been a little peculiar.” Adam said. “He finds smells very important.”

“He’s definitely not normal.” Keith said. “He rants about how important the social structure is then ignores it entirely.”

“Like you’re ignoring it?”

“No, like, he still takes value, he still participates, but he also exists outside of it?”

“Keith, does this really matter that much?”

“I want to know why he gets to do whatever he wants while the rest of us have to be confined to a social steryotype.”

“And the eyes?”

Keith sighed, collapsing onto the loveseat. “You don’t get it.”

“What I don’t get is why we’re talking about the junior student rep instead of the fact that you got into a fight on the first day of school.” Shiro said.

“It was not a fight. I punched him once.”

“You’re barely attending school as it is, tell me again why you thought punching someone was a good way to keep your head down?”

“If you heard the things he said, you would’ve done the same thing!”

“We don’t have charges of assault looming on our heads, for christ’s sake.” Adam said. “You are two steps from getting thrown into jail. They don’t care that you’re sixteen. James isn’t out of the woods yet-”

“Don’t remind me!” Keith snapped. He made himself relax. “If it’s been this long, what are the chances? Of him making it?”

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“Two weeks unconscious.” Keith groaned. “I can avoid aggravated assault on the grounds of self defense, but not manslaughter.”

“And if you’re shown to be a threat to the general public, i.e. getting in fights consistently in school, that self defense stance goes up in smoke.”

“Thanks for telling me what I already know.” Keith said.

“Is it possible that this fixation on Lance is just a distraction from everything else that’s preoccupying your mind?”

“Don’t call it a fixation.” Keith sighed, splaying his hands in front of him. “Maybe. But stop trying to pull your school guidance counselor crap, Adam. It’s bad enough when it’s a random name assigned to my case who I see for an hour each week.”

“I’m just concerned.”

“I’m aware.” Keith pushed himself off the loveseat and maneuvered his way through the living room. Pieces of furniture were jutting into every walkway, and boxes of paper and books and knick knacks were left half unpacked on the floor from when Adam had moved in, a few months ago. Before James. “I’m going to bed,” he said, which everyone knew was code for ‘I’m going to go lay, completely awake, on my bed until pure exhaustion knocks me out.’ “Night.”

“Good night, Keith.” Adam said.

“Get some rest,” Shiro said, with less subtlety.

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

Lance didn’t talk to him the next day, although they passed several times. His trial period where Lance was showing him the ropes was up.

The boxing team was small, fourteen boys and three girls. They didn’t seem all too interested in making Keith a part of their circle, and he wasn’t interested in making an effort to join them. Yesterday was the first day he’d stepped into their ring. After he’d proven he had some skill- which they should’ve known from his record- he was set against their captain for every spar and exercise. His name was Earl Hale. The whole team called him Mr. Grey for reasons that were never explained but Keith started calling him that anyways. It would be weird not to.

“Kogane.” Earl said.

“What?” Keith asked, stalling in front of his second class.

“You’ve been here for a couple days, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You should start coming to sit with us, then.”

“Okay,” Keith said, knowing full well he wouldn’t.

“You throw a good punch, K. I’d hate to see you in trouble for nothing.”

Keith nodded and stepped into his class.

At lunch, which seemed to be an integral part of the social nuances of Altea Prep, Keith drew something he enjoyed. The edge of the dense forest, just a snippet of the whole woods, a wolf half hidden by the trunk of a tree. It was the kind of drawing that you wanted to keep on going but had to be stopped. He touched the face of the wolf softly- it was so precise despite being the size of the pad of his thumb. The face smudged, and Keith spent a decent ten minutes restoring it. He sighed, knowing the details of the drawing would be lost forever if he didn’t set it.

Lance had pointed to the arts building, briefly, but Keith found it with little delay. It was smaller, but still two stories, and he passed several classrooms that were obviously dedicated to some faction of artistic education before coming to a studio. He stepped inside quietly, embarrassed to find that it was already occupied by someone. He was about to back out again when she spoke.

“Daniel, did you bring me something to eat?”

“Sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding.” Keith said.

“Oh,” the girl said, turning around. She stared blankly past him, with a white sheen over her eyes. “Sorry, are you lost?”

“Not... entirely.” Keith said. “I’m looking for setting spray, for charcoal. This is obviously a pottery studio though-”

“Sculpture.” She said. “I’ll get you some spray, follow me.”

She walked to a door and opened it, ducking under a ledge and shuffling sideways through shelves before rummaging around one particular one.

“What’s your name?” She asked, as she was looking.

“Keith. Keith Kogane.”

“I’m Koré.” She said, finding a spray bottle, tossing it gently to him. “Koré Min-Hao. Is that it?”

Keith looked at the label. “It’s varnish.” He said. “For oils.”

“Damn,” Koré said gently. “Here, what about this?” She tossed another. This one was the setting spray.

“Don’t use it in here, come up into the kiln room.” She brushed past him and led him up a narrow staircase. The studio was almost as tall as the whole building, with a loft on one half, and skylights on the other. The loft that held the small kiln was ridiculously hot with the heat of the oven and the concentrated afternoon light from the skylights. It was yellow and orange and smelled of clay and dust. Koré manuvered her way more carefully, feeling low to her knees.

“Some people make bigger things that stand on the floor,” she said. There was an empty table at the back. “Spray it here.” She said. Keith obeyed. “So, you’re one of the art kids? What’s your focus?”

“Boxing, as a matter of fact,” Keith said.

“What in hell’s name are you doing here, then?” Shouldn’t you be concerned about your cliques?”

“I just got here at the start of this week. Cliques are hardly important to me.”

“Lovely life that must be, huh? Not worrying about it yet.”

“And you?”

“Well, I’m fucking blind, ‘aint I? They don’t exactly want to count me in their numbers, but they won’t pick on me, either.” She sighed, rubbing her fingers together. They were covered in now dry clay.

“That’s better than being picked on for refusing to fit in.”

“At least you have the choice.” Koré sighed. “So, if you like art enough to set it, why boxing?”

“I’m poor. Need the scholarship.”

“Oh. The story of every sports prodigy that’s ever passed through here.”

“Every rags to riches story this sorry campus has produced?”

“Exactly.” She relaxed in a warm spot of sun and he followed suit. “What’s the drawing of?”

“The forest.” Keith said. “A wolf.”

“You usually draw wolves?”

“I usually draw landscapes.” Keith said.

“No portraits?”

“Too personal.”

“I only ever make people.” Koré said. “So complex, so understanding. Beautiful. Real.”

“But personal.”

“Only if you’re scared of personality.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Koré?” Called a boy from below. “I brought lunch, where are you?”

“In the loft!” She called back. She pulled her fingers through some dried clay in her hair. “How do I look?” She asked Keith softly.

“Like you’ve been working with clay for an hour and lost your hair tie somewhere along the way.” She shrugged, smiling lightly.

“No better than I could’ve hoped for.” She handed him his dried drawing. The boy, who Keith assumed was David, came up the stairs with a cafeteria tray. Keith blinked a couple times.

“A new friend?” He asked.

“Keith Kogane.” Koré introduced. David approached them, looking at the drawing in his hands.

“A new friend with a good hand.” He gave one tray to her. “You just transferred in?”

“He’s in sports.” Koré said.

“Alright.” Daniel said.

“Daniel and I collaborate a lot.” She said. “I sculpt, he paints them.”

“That’s super cool,” Keith commented, genuine.

“So,” Daniel said, “just stealing the school’s setting spray?”

“Basically.” Keith said. “If I shut the sketchbook on it, it would ruin it.”

“So, you’re not hiding here to avoid Reddy’s torment.”

“Not really, no. Spitballs and shaving cream in my locker doesn’t necessarily bother me that much.”

“It’ll get worse.”

“Ha. Thanks.” Keith sighed. “Obviously, some people can get by.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lance McClain.” Keith said.

“Oh,” David said. “Him.”

“What’s his deal?” Keith asked.

“The Headmaster, before you came. Alfor.” David said. “He was preferential to Lance.”

“If you messed with him, you got in trouble. No bygones.” Koré said. “A lot of people resented it at first, but whoever got into trouble usually deserved it.”

“So eventually, people just stopped. And when Alfor died, in April, it was just such a habit that nothing changed.” David smiled at Keith. “Look, me and Koré get off pretty easy, because she’s blind, and my parents are dead. But if you start hanging out with us, that could change.”

“What, are you saying I could make them start bullying you?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not hard to. I have Albinisim, she’s a freaky artist chick. We’re also both queer as fuck. If it weren’t for the fact that bullying either of us would be morally reprehensible, we’d both be dead.”

“God, I wish I’d had an artist’s scholarship instead of boxing.”

“Would be one hell of a world.” David said. “Why’d you need the scholarship anyways?”

“I beat a kid half to death.” Keith said, putting the drawing back into his book. “He’s still in the ICU.” It was not what either of them had been expecting. “Thanks for the setting spray.”

* * *

 

“Wolves, huh?” Lance said, leaning over Keith’s shoulder, looking at his sketchbook. Keith slammed the book closed, feeling his face flash hot. Lance held his hands up defensively. “Woah woah woah, cool down, hotshot.”

“I don’t usually draw wolves.” He said, defensively.

“Wolves are something.” Lance said, sitting. “Not to sound Emo or anything, but they’re beautiful. They live in communities where family is everything. Where the bonds are stronger than anything. No leaders, no outcasts.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of the Emo interpretation of wolves.”

“The lone wolf steryotype is bullshit.” Lance said. “They’re social animals. They need their packs. Just like people.”

“Are you trying to get me to start hanging out with the Boxing people too?”

“It’s in your best interest.” Lance said. “Look. I don’t have any obligation to you anymore, and after... well, let’s just say, I’m not very secure in my social position.”

“After the headmaster died?” Keith asked.

“Lance raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Guess you’ve been talking to someone, at least.”

The professor entered to start the class.

At boxing, Earl stopped Keith before going to the locker room.

“Hey, you know you need to be at practice first thing, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just that the commute is half an hour, and practice starting at Five is ridiculous-”

“It’s because most people live on campus. If you would move into the dorm, then it would be easier. You could just stay on over the week and go home on weekends.”

“I don’t have the money to board.” Keith said.

“I’ll explain to Allura that it,s for sports. The school will cover it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Grey.” Keith said. “I’ll talk to Shiro about it.”

“You’re a great boxer, K. I don’t want you sidelined for an attendance issue.” Keith nodded, feeling and acute sense of deja-vu as he brushed past Earl into the locker room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vld7 will not in any way affect this fic good day


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s insane to see Pidge compete. Lance knew that better than anyone, the way her small, unextraordinary body suddenly moved, with almost zero preparation, into impossible shapes. Watching her, you realized, if you had enough of a suspicion already.
> 
> The way she tumbled was supernatural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys realized yet that this is a self idulgent fic  
> Pidge is a gymnast because im a gymnast and i like her so :P

“Are you worried about something?” Pidge asked, adjusting her backpack.

“Just how you’re gonna do.” Lance said, giving her a noogie.

“Noooooo, I have hairspray in!” She said, swatting his hands. Her short, peanut colored hair was slicked back with a helmet of hairspray and gel into a scrunchie that was more voluminous than the hair that poked out of it. The bus they were waiting for would hold all ten members of their girls gymnastics team, and all of the students who would want to go watch the meets. That was mostly the team member’s boyfriends the solitary girlfriend, and him and Hunk. Allura was coming along as a chaperone additional to the gym coaches.

Pidge was one of two level ten gymnasts from the school. There were two on each level from 5 to 10, and Pidge was the youngest gymnast that the school had sponsored at level ten ever, but apparently gymnasts just kept getting more talented younger, so it shouldn’t be too weird.

“Matt’s coming to watch,” she said, leaning her head against the window, which was fogging up. The first cold snap had hit, and the trees in the forest around them were turning suddenly. Pidge wasn’t wearing any shoes, her ugg slippers on the bus floor and her feet pulled up on the bus seat.

“Oh,” Lance said. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“It’s not bad.” She said. “After what happened last spring, we haven’t talked much.” Lance didn’t blame her. She placed her chin on her knees, which were clothed in fuzzy cookie monster pajama bottoms. Of course, Pidge cared about her family, maybe as much as Lance did, but it was a lot more complicated for her than him. Maybe that was the reason she took him up on his offer of Fall break.

“This leo is itchy,” she said, unzipping her jacket and putting her feet on the ground. “You’ve been looking concerned all day though, what’s your damage?”

“Allura just told me they’re rooming me with someone. I mean, can you imagine?”

“Oh, boo-hoo. Some of us have had to deal with roommates since day one. You’ve been blessed with your solitude and now Karma has come to collect, my friend!”

“I have to sneak in at two. Now that we don’t... we don’t have Alfor, that could get me in trouble.”

“Oh, hush.” Pidge said. “You’ll figure it out, I know it.”

The gym the meet was at was obviously not regularly used for the purpose. Girls with bare feet and legs shuffled around, complaining about the cold cement floors. Two squares of floor were taped down, and younger girls were already competing.

“I’m gonna go get registered.” Pidge said, tossing him the drawstring backpack that held everything for the day. “Do what you will.”

Lance shouldered the backpack and rolled his eyes.

“Hey, look at that.” Hunk said, tapping Lance’s arm. “The hell’s Kogane doing here?”

“Dunno,” Lance said, eyeing the back of his head. “No need to say Hi, though.”

“Adam and his boyfriend are here too.”

“Probably the reason Keith’s here. The buff asian dude, Adam’s boyfriend? He’s Keith’s brother.”

“Andddddd, Adam sees us.” Hunk said, then raised his hand to wave. “Hi!”

“Hi Hunk, Lance.” Adam said. “You’re here for Pidge, right?”

“Lance, right?” Adam’s boyfriend asked, extending his hand. Lance shook it. “Thanks for showing Keith around, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Lance said, “as a student representative, It’s my responsibility to welcome new arrivals and make them feel comfortable.”

“Keep an eye on him, okay? He’s a little-”

“Shiro, Adam, Raija’s next on the floor.” Keith said, walking over to them. “Oh. It’s the pack. What are you doing here?”

Shiro and Adam left to go watch.

“Pidge, the girl who’s always with us? She’s competing today, so we’re here to watch. Why are you here?”

“Adam’s little sister is competing. Floor’s her last event, and then it’s fifteen minutes till level three awards.”

“P doesn’t compete till seven thirty, but you should come back to watch her. I think you’ll like it a lot better than standard level three routines.”

“Maybe.” Keith said, looking at a tiny Indian girl in a red Leo who was stepping onto the floor. “I’ve seen her on youtube, though. From nationals last year.”

“You follow gymnastics?”

“I was helping her with an assignment from her coach. Adam asks me to screen all the videos before letting her see them.”

“That’s nice.” Lance said. “Better than romping around the internet unsupervised, right?”

The level three floor song started to play, so Keith left Lance with a little wave.

“He’s kinda a mystery, right?” Pidge said out of nowhere.

“Pidge, we disappear into the woods twice daily.” Lance said. “Aren’t we allowed to be the prime mysteries of the school?”

 

* * *

 

 

Pidge was the number 1 prediction for the upcoming Olympics team. She’d started when she was eight, and was competing level seven when she got a scholarship with Altea prep. In a year and a half, she moved up three competing levels, and just barely at nationals, she placed first. Fifteen years old, top of the gymnastics scene, incredible.

Pretending that the Floor and Vault were anything but her’s today was an insult. Lance watched as she approached the vault, her run strong and her eyes a bright yellow. She did a round-off whip to a double full. No wavering, a solid stick and present. It will be the hardest skill at the meet and she pulled it off flawlessly. The judges gave her a perfect ten, because it was, it was flawless. She smiled and presented to the audience, and Lance stopped filming.

“Would you look at that,” Hunk said, gesturing to a head of black hair two rows down and a little to the left of them. “He came back to watch.”

It’s insane to see Pidge compete. Lance knew that better than anyone, the way her small, unextraordinary body suddenly moved, with almost zero preparation, into impossible shapes. Watching her, you realized, if you had enough of a suspicion already.

The way she tumbled was supernatural.

They got back to the dorm at ten, and Lance lay down on his bed, sprawled out, and dialed his mom. He wondered which snob would be moving into his room at the start of next week. He dialed his mom and waited as it rung two times.

“Hi, Mama,” he said.

“How’d the meet go?” She asked immediately.

“Pidge took gold.” He said. “By a lot.”

“How many tens?”

“Just the two, floor and vault. High nines on the beam and bars. Nine point nine whatever.”

“She needs to focus more.”

“Tell her coach, not me.”

“It’s not like her mom cares enough to do it.”

Pidge’s mom did care, a lot, but there were more pressing concerns on her than her daughter’s gymnastics career. And even though Lance’s Mom knew everything now, she couldn’t really wrap her head around Colleen’s particular difficulties with her daughter.

After taking a little more about gymnastics, Lance changed the subject.

“I’ll have a roommate soon,” he said. “I won’t be able to keep speaking Spanish.”

“Lance, darling, you know what I tell you.”

“That without the active preservation of culture it’ll die.” He repeated tonelessly. “I can’t go back to how it was when I was a freshman, Mama, you know I can’t.”

“Yeah, I know.” She said. “Lance, it’s Marina’s birthday today, so I need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, Alright?”

“Tell Marina happy birthday, will you?”

“Of course. I love you, Lance.”

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

After practice, Lance had all but forgotten about the whole roommate drama. He dropped his backpack unceremoniously on the floor and walked over to his bed, falling over onto it.

After a quick catnap- only fifteen minutes, he looked around the room and noticed all the differences- another sports jacket hung by the door, some dress shoes on the mat, books and a bag on the unused desk. The bag was plain and black and worn. Terribly worn, in the way that it was obvious it had been mended every time it had gone wrong. Lance walked to the desk and picked up a notebook. Neat, unassuming handwriting. He dropped it and sat back on the bed. His roommate seemed to be organized, uncluttered. They’d probably end up clashing a lot, seeing as Lance had four different products for his face alone lined up on the bathroom shelf, Five if you included the duplicate that he’d bought while on sale and used concurrently with the other one.

His phone buzzed, a text from Allura. Telling him they had a hunt. He changed quickly and left. Hopefully his roommate would be asleep by the time he got back.

The game in the forest was large, but they never killed more than one a night. Only elk, because the pack was too small to ever warrant killing a moose. Lance saw one today, though, as they were out scouting for the herd they would cull from. He stayed silent behind the tree as he watched the two of them- a cow and her calf- lumber past. They made virtually no noise as they walked across the new layer of leaf litter. They were so graceful, and Lance was in awe.

It was one thing to see a picture of a moose. Another to see a video next to like, a car or something. But in person, watching crouched on the forest floor- nothing was comparable. They walked a slow and gallant pace, great heads hung low, swinging as their massive weight moved from shoulder to shoulder, haunch to haunch. The cow looked at him, her brown eyes recognizing him immediately amount the bushes. He looked to the ground, telling her that he’d be no threat, and she let a slow, puttered breath through her lips.

He heard Allura call them all for a kill. He arrived last.

“What were you doing?” Pidge asked.

“Greeting the Moose.” Lance said, waiting respectfully while Allura ate her fill.

“What? Lucky!” Hunk complained, but Lance didn’t have the chance to explain, because Allura sat back, and it was Lance’s turn to eat.

When he got back to his room, the dreaded roommate was nothing but a lump on his bed, bundled in the covers. Lance turned off the light at his desk and changed into his pajamas, groaning as he noted the fact that he’d only get four hours of sleep that night.

His new companion seemed to like having a podcast playing while he slept, so Lance tried to sleep while a radiolab episode played about life on mars.

He woke for the early morning jog and groggily made his way to the bathroom, where a shower was already.

“Great, so he’s an early bird.” Lance said, splashing water on his face.

“Are you fucking serious?” Said his roommate, and Lance recognized his voice with a chill down his spine before he peeked his head through the shower curtain. “ _You’re_ my roommate?” Asked Keith Kogane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god they were roommates


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re no big mystery to me,” she said. “I know what happened to James Rivers.”
> 
> Raija, bless her twelve-year-old heart, put a comforting hand on Keith’s arm.
> 
> “No, you don’t. You don’t know anything.”
> 
> “Not that I blame you for it, honestly. I read the police report, and your testimony.”
> 
> Keith did not want to remember what had happened. He did not want her to mention any detail that she’d assumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lolololol I’m tired yeet

Raija was pretty nice, and Keith wasn’t a horrible person, so he cheered the little girl on as she competed her simple stock-standard routines, shouting her on as she jumped onto the lowered vault in a handstand and fell off. It was so simple and sweet, it reminded him of when he was a kid and did t-ball.

“Hey, Keith, there’s some of your classmates here.” Shiro said, tapping his bicep and following Adam.

“No thanks,” he said, watching a little blonde girl jump gut-first into the vault. He made sure Rai made it to the next event and waited until they called the queue. Raija was third, so he watched the first routine, then went to go get Shiro and Adam.

“Raija’s next on the floor-” he began, then noticed who they were talking to. “Oh, it’s the pack. What are you doing here?”

Lance explained that Pidge was competing, and Keith understood suddenly why he’d recognized her on the first day of school, although he hardly noted it.

“Adam’s little sister is competing,” he began to explain. “Floor’s her last event, and then we have to stick around another fifteen minutes till awards.”

“P doesn’t compete till seven thirty, but maybe you should come back and watch. I think you’ll like it a lot better than standard level three routines.”

“Maybe,” Keith said, watching Raija take the floor. “I’ve seen videos of her, from nationals last year.”

“You follows gymnastics?”

Keith explained briefly about Adam’s paranoia concerning YouTube videos and the insertion of inappropriate videos into playlists that children might easily watch.

“That’s nice,” Lance said with a charming smile. “Better than romping around the internet unsupervised, huh?”

That made Keith smile, and he almost responded, but the music for Raija’s routine began to play, so he left with a wave.

Raija placed third, and as they were walking out, she spotted Pidge at the concessions booth.

“Keith, look! It’s Katie Holt!”

“Yeah, It is.” Keith said.

“I wanna go meet her!” Raija whined, tugging on Keith’s arm.

“Okay, okay.” He walked up to her.

“Hey. It’s Pidge, right?” He asked.

“Oh, it’s Keith Kogane, right?”

“Yeah. This is Raija,” he introduced, pulling her in front of him. “She’s a fan of yours.”

“Oh, hello. I see you have a medal there, that’s great.”

“It’s not gold.”

“But it will be, one day.” Pidge high fived her and smiled. “Cute kid,” she said to Keith, handing the cashier a fiver and taking the food.

“Thanks.” He said.

“You’re no big mystery to me,” she said. “I know what happened to James Rivers.”

Raija, bless her twelve-year-old heart, put a comforting hand on Keith’s arm.

“No, you don’t. You don’t know anything.”

“Not that I blame you for it, honestly. I read the police report, and your testimony.”

Keith did not want to remember what had happened. He did not want her to mention any detail that she’d assumed.

“That being said, Altea prep, and the pack, are fragile. So you keep yourself out of our business, and we keep ourselves out of yours.” She looked at Raija sweetly.

“I hope I see you with a gold around your neck soon.” She said.

 

* * *

 

Keith drove back to the competition alone at six thirty. He found a spot by himself- the place was much more crowded now. Pidge’s first event was vault. She stretched and set and measured. Then, after cracking her neck twice, she ran her approach. Keith’s later arrival meant he was shoved against the tape that set apart the judges box. He saw her eyes as she ran. The same tawny yellow as Lance’s had been.

When she hit the springboard, the whip was too fast to follow. Her double full was slow enough to showcase her height that she could get, and fast enough to show her power through her spin. It was perfect. Too perfect.

The rest of her events were just as good, she had just as much power.

She had skinny little arms, and it definitely didn’t seem like she got the power from her legs. It was hardly natural.

“I think they’re not human,” Keith proposed to Shiro, that night.

“What do you think they are?”

“I dunno. Something. Aliens.”

“I’ve got no doubt that Pidge would be thrilled you think she’s an alien, but I assure you, I’ve met all the families, and they’re all perfectly normal.” Adam said, then paused. “Well, actually, Pidge’s older brother is a bit of an odd one, but all in all, they’re just a group of really talented young people. They congregate to each other like that, you know.”

Keith knew. It had happened at his old school, too. Not necessarily a clique, but a segregation of sorts. He’d never really fit into either category- although he was shuffled into AP classes and did well enough on the tests, he never did his homework and was awful at math and science. His athleticism done in boxing was much different than those who did teams with the school. At least he and Robin Rivers were close, friends enough. And Robin hung out with James Rivers, by the fact that they were cousins, and so by extension, Keith usually had a group to sit with and a ride home because of all of James’s friends. He didn’t have that at Altea, and at least until James got out of the hospital, Robin wasn’t allowed near him, and the other people he’d passed his time with hadn’t bothered.

Didn’t mean anything, though. Their eyes turned yellow, and they went into the woods often. There was something to be said about that, and Keith thought he ought to say it.

* * *

  
It would be lame for Keith to admit he still had nightmares about it- the initial violation, and then how he felt when he was slamming James’s head into the ground. Every single time when he realized he’d gone too far and he kept doing it.

The feeling of utter bloodlust was not something he’d soon forget.

He was sitting straight up in his bed, cold sweat drenching his shirt, which he stripped off. He wondered, vaguely, if feeling utterly helpless was better than feeling so suddenly in control. He tried to remember what the dream had been like before his past had so rudely interrupted it, but it just brought it all back, and he ended up throwing up in the bathroom.

God, he hated throwing up.

It was what that damn Pidge-Katie-Holt. She brought it up and now it was all he could think about. Damn, he hoped James was okay, but it was fucked that he was the one who got expelled. If James lived, he’d be allowed back.

“Keith?” Asked Shiro, coming in and patting his back. “Calm down, Keith, you’ll be okay.”

Keith wiped the tears from his face roughly. Shiro filled the glass they kept by the kitchen sink and handed it to him.

“This is never gonna go away, is it?” He asked.

“Keith, you know I don’t understand it, but it will be okay.”

Keith grabbed the bathroom towel and wiped his mouth before sitting back on his knees. He needed to get some sleep, some actual sleep, but he was to embarrassed to suggest the thing that would help him, so he was glad when Shiro offered.

“Do you need to sleep in the bed with me and Adam tonight?”

He thought of all the things he would say if he didn’t feel like he did right now- he’s not a little kid anymore, isn’t that weird considering how old he is, is Adam okay with it- but he didn’t say any of them, be just followed Shiro silently.

Adam and Shiro were the closest thing to parents he’d ever get. He wondered how he might’ve turned out different if he could still sneak into bed with his dad during those odd in-between years where everything went so wrong all at once.

The next morning, when he was still half-asleep and keeping his eyes closed just so he wouldn’t have to move, he overheard them talking about him-

“Will he be okay living at the dorm?” Adam asked.

“I think the change in scenery will do him good. And the fact that there’s another human person around. A constant witness.”

“A witness is no good if they witness the fact you have night terrors to the whole school.”

“He’s sixteen, Adam. He’s learning how to deal with this shit and he’s learning well.”

“Okay.” Adam said. He knew more about teen psychology, but Shiro knew more about Keith.

He got out of the bed, scrounging for his hair tie.

“Thanks,” he told them, “it won’t happen again.”

“It’s not like it would be the worst thing in the world,” Shiro said.

It felt like it would be.

 

* * *

 

Keith skipped boxing to set up in his dorm room. It was lush. Pennsylvania didn’t have a lot of the gilded age mansions, or old southern money, because it was Quaker back when all that was happening. But the building was old and the rooms were ornate, and they seemed heavy- red drapery and carpeting, a big old window that would let in morning light. There were two beds, one which was obviously being used, so Keith put his pillow on the other one and tucked the ratty stuffed hippo he’d always slept with deep into the foot of the bed. He found which wardrobe was his, and set up his desk. His roommate seemed unorganized and cluttered. Keith was like that at home, but this place was like a hotel room. He’d be going home every weekend.

He went out to sketch, and by the time he got back, his roommate had been there- a school uniform was crumpled on the floor next to his bed. The roommate wasn’t there at dinner, nor for the whole time Keith was studying, and so Keith thought that maybe he’d gone home for some reason by the time he went to sleep. He put on a radiolab episode and curled up on his side, focusing on the low timbre of the man’s voice and the words he was saying. He fell asleep before it was half over.

He woke up and ran with the boxing team, then got into the shower. He roommate had appeared sometime over the night, leading Keith to believe he’d probably snuck out to have sex with someone.

The faucet turned on. “Great, So he’d an early bird.” Keith heard the elusive roommate mutter, and he recognized his voice immediately.

“Are you fucking serious?” He stuck his head out of the shower curtain to make sure he was right. Of course, there was Lance. “You’re my roommate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keef has a tragic past don’t you love those  
> I’ve been watching too much banana fish  
> Ur we;come

**Author's Note:**

> Are my writing skills good enough to make this fic valid? Probably not but whatever we love a self indulgent queen. *tounge thwok* idk why superhero aus are more valid than werewolve teenage romances oh wait i do its because society loves to shit on the interests of teenage girls. So anyways pls comment and follow me @ astereaes on tumblr yeet


End file.
